Littlest
by Amberzlove
Summary: Somewhat of a prequel to "Through His Eyes."
1. Default Chapter

I know that this is a feedback to feedback, but I wanted to let everyone know of some of my thoughts concerning my original story "Through His Eyes." I wanted everyone to know that I also felt that Raphael was acting out of character, but many out in the world have "out of character" moments when something slides into place that means something to them. I wrote this to show love between a family and also the coming to the realization of what is important. An epiphany if you will.

Will Raphael let any of his brothers know the nickname for Mikey? No, not ever. This will be a secret between just the two them that both knows will not need to be spoken aloud again. I am sure many out in the world have their own "Raphael" brother or sister. I am also sure that of those many, there are those that have something private and special they share with their "Raphaels." This story is for them.

Love,

Amber

I do not own the TMNT and have not written this for anything beside pure creative pleasure.

Please review. I am trying to improve my writing skills and would love any

feedback you could possibly offer.

Thank you!

Littlest

My name is Splinter and I have four little sons who are not even two years old yet. I became a father almost overnight and have taken on this task that can be just as rewarding as it can be a burden at times. Even now recounting this tale to you, I am gazing down upon the four, sleeping beings who have become my whole world.

When I first discovered my four infant, turtle sons among the shards of glass and strange green ooze in their original forms, I knew I had to take action. I immediately went and removed them from the mess and placed them into an old coffee can. Imagine my surprise at the beginnings of their and my own mutation to humanoid form thanks to the green chemicals. In a few days I had the equivalent to four newborns to care and raise. Originally I had thought that my sons were the same age, but now in my heart I feel that the littlest of the four is actually at least 6-8 months younger than his other three brothers.

The oldest of the four I have named Leonardo. He was the first to walk and also to speak to my surprise. However, to my chagrin his first word was not "dada" but "pizza." The second eldest I have named Raphael and I feel that he will be what the humans call a "scrapper" his entire life. Not to be outdone by his older brother, he walked no more than a day after Leonardo and much to my dislike spoke his first word to Leonardo in the choice of a new name. I was not happy with this new name he dubbed Leonardo with, "dum-dum."

The third eldest I have named Donatello. He is the quietest and shyest of the four. It took him no time to see his two older brothers walk before he joined them. He is, however; much more cautious in his travels than the other two. Donatello seems to be a very thoughtful child. He loves to hear me read as his tiny fingers trace the pictures in the children's books that I have found to read my sons. His first word was also not "dada" but "book." I am most pleased it was not "pizza" or "dum-dum."

My youngest is called Michelangelo and is the littlest of my four sons. Michelangelo did not walk for the longest time after his other three brothers took their first tentative steps. He would watch his brothers with those big, brown eyes of his and smile and coo at them, but never really tried to participate. He was content to watch while playing with his toys or snuggling his stuffed panda bear.

His other brothers tried to encourage Michelangelo to get up and play their new game of "Run from Splinter." Leonardo especially would jerk on poor little Michelangelo's arms until the little one would begin to wail. To my surprise, it was Raphael, who would come to Michelangelo's rescue ahead of me by pushing Leonardo away, wrapping his arms around his little brother declaring, "No hurt my baby! You dum-dum!" I was not sure whether to be proud or angry with Raphael. It was to Raphael and myself that Michelangelo took his first steps toward. I was much relieved to see Michelangelo begin to toddle about for I had feared that my youngest would not be able to develop to the same levels of his brothers.

However, what did have me worried was that Michelangelo has not shown any efforts to begin speaking. He would coo and make baby noises, but nothing else. His other brothers were able to carry on pretty decent conversations for near two-year-olds. Michelangelo did not seem much interested in talking and a child development book I found said that some children just develop at a different pace and will ascend each developmental step when he or she was ready. I was most eager for Michelangelo to as the humans put it, "jump this hurdle."

To be continued.

Review or I won't continue. I love to hear your voices whether in criticism (which will only help me improve) or in praise (which gives me great feelings of accomplishment). Thank you! Amber


	2. Littlest II

I do not own the TMNT and have not written this for anything beside pure creative pleasure.

Please review. I am trying to improve my writing skills and would love any

feedback you could possibly offer.

Thank you!

Thank you for those who reviewed. I was only teasing about the "won't continue" part if I didn't get reviews. I would never do that. I have some supposed "friends" who were quite harsh on their personal reviews to me and I was feeling a little down. You helped me salvage my self-esteem.

Know that you are much appreciated.

Amber

Littlest

Chapter 2

For a single father of four, I was quite proud of the home I had created for my sons. Even though our home was in the sewers to protect us from the humans that would not understand us, the place was warm, dry, and cozy. I had taken every precaution to insure that none of my sons could toddle in harms way. In fact, I had even constructed a nursery that I could place my sons in and know that they were safe when I had to forage for food, supplies, or any baby needs I had at the moment.

I had settled down quite happily in my role of head of household. I cannot remember a time that I have been so content with my life even compared to the happy times with my master.

Leonardo had learned a new word today after I took him and his brothers on a small walk through the safest part of the sewers. He had heard a young human boy through a grate leading to the surface tell his friends that his new bicycle was "radical." Since then I and everything in the lair was quickly dubbed "radical." "Radical chair! Radical Daddy! Radical everything! Radical! Radical! Radical." Imagine my surprise when little Donatello hearing his brother, exclaimed quite loudly "Excellent!" to which Raphael followed up with "Awesome!" Michelangelo laughed and danced around his brothers delighting in their new grammar. Yes, my sons were quickly picking up on their surroundings and participating quite whole-heartedly. In fact, Raphael even seemed to be beginning to exhibit a slight accent reminiscent of the area humans call "Bronx."

The only mar to my happiness was my littlest's lack of speech. I had come to the conclusion that Michelangelo was a bit younger than his brothers were, but he should have started saying some simple words by now. Leonardo and Donatello were even beginning to pick up on Michelangelo's lack of speech and had started teasing him. Just this afternoon I had observed and broken apart a small battle being waged.

"Ittle baby! Ittle baby!" Leonardo chanted running around Michelangelo.

"Baby! No talk-talk! Dum-dum baby!" Donatello also sang from his vantage point watching his older brother's antics.

Michelangelo was clutching his stuffed panda and sobbing. Raphael planted himself in Leonardo's path and wouldn't allow him to get any closer to his baby brother.

"Ya mean!" Raphael declared, "Leave my baby lone. He no wanta talk-talk with boo-boo heads."

Leonardo and Donatello pounced on Raphael. I quickly intervened when it became a free-for-all. Each were placed in a corner, two for teasing their brother and fighting while the other for simply fighting even if I did secretly applaud his protective instincts for his little brother. I picked up Michelangelo and began to soothe him for his distressed wails were splitting my eardrums. Michelangelo gripped the fur on my chest and sniffled into my kimono until calm.

Sitting him down on the floor, I went and got the surprise I had brought for him and his brothers. I had found an unopened pack of crayons that were meant for small hands. The crayons were thick and in the colors of black, brown, green, blue, yellow, red, orange, and purple. Placing the crayons and some sheets of construction paper in front of Michelangelo, I demonstrated how the crayons left marks on the paper. My son was simply delighted and clapped his small hands before reaching for the orange crayon. He colored happily for the rest of the afternoon.

My other three sons were eventually allowed out of time-out and wandered off to play in their nursery, all ill will between them forgotten. Enjoying the quiet, I indulged myself in a pot of tea and some light reading between checking on my small wards. Yes, everything was at peace for the moment and I was thoroughly enjoying the break.

When evening crept up on me, I prepared my sons' dinner. I had to eat after my sons ate or I would not get to eat my food while it was warm. I had already settled Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello into their salvaged highchairs when I went to fetch Michelangelo. He sat surrounded by his crayoned art. When I picked up my youngest he refused to relinquish a crumpled piece of construction paper. Reaching the kitchen, I quickly settled Michelangelo into his highchair and turned to get my sons dinner when I heard a new little voice.

"Dada ookey."

Spinning around, I glanced at my youngest who was holding his piece of paper out to me. Enchanted, I kneeled down and took the paper from Michelangelo. The paper contained a brown, orange, red, blue, and purple bunch of scribbles. His big brown eyes sparkled at me happily as he pointed to the brown scribble and then to me and said, "Dada." He then pointed to the red scribble and then to Raphael and said, "Ra-ra," Then he pointed to the blue scribble and then to Leonardo and said "Le-le." Then to the purple scribble and then to Donatello and said "Don-don." Finally, he pointed to the orange scribble and then himself and said "Me-me."

My other three sons laughed in delight when I picked up Michelangelo and swung him around in a circle chuckling at his first words. Michelangelo squealed happily and held his arms out. Hugging him to me, I felt his small arms squeeze me back. A small whispered "Dada" brushed my sensitive ears and brought tears to my eyes. Yes! Michelangelo has spoken and he would be just fine. I felt immensely proud of my littlest.

My sons are now settled in bed sleeping and I have the rest of the night to myself. Yet I am still here with them guarding my babies dreams. Soon I will have to scavenge for a frame to hang up Michelangelo's first artwork. I will also let you know of one little bit of vanity on my part. How delightful it is to have one of my sons' first words be "Dada." Good night.

The End


End file.
